Chapter Text
For the eight hundred and twenty-eighth time, Connor walked up and down the length of the sparsely decorated waiting room that served to only stress him more. Visiting hours were still a short while away and time was passing too slowly for his liking. He needed to see Gavin Reed.
There was no doubting that his LED was a disturbed red, spinning continuously in a circle like his pacing, and just as impossible for him to get away from.
First he checked his internal clock, then he checked his phone, then Gavin’s, then he looked at the clock at the wall and the other one down the hall—still five more minutes until eleven, until he could go in and see how Gavin was doing.
Earlier that day he had tried to go to work mere hours after the ambulance had carted Gavin away—a gunshot wound to the abdomen and another to his upper thigh. To Connor, it hadn’t looked good and he’d spent the next few hours loitering around the hospital and only putting himself into more of a panic until it was time to go to work and he decided that he might as well be useful.
Upon walking into the Detroit Police Department, Connor had known that he should be taking the day off instead of going to work but he found himself unable to stop thinking about Gavin, worrying about him and if he’ll be okay. In other words, Connor needed a distraction.
But that hadn’t lasted long. When Captain Fowler saw him at his desk he ordered Connor to go home and rest on pain of being fired—Captain Fowler would never do that but Connor listened to him and left anyways, barely meeting Hank’s eyes as he scurried out of the precinct and into the freezing air of Detroit.
Sitting down in the chair he’d occupied for the last hour, Connor’s posture was tenser than usual and he had a feeling that he would need a top up on thirium much sooner than anticipated because of that. Even sitting down he still needed to do something so he fished his coin out of his pocket and began to idly play with it. He hadn’t done that in years but still kept the coin with him as a good luck charm of sorts.
The sound of the coin as he tossed it around and spun it calmed him, along with the feel of it dancing along his fingertips. While it didn’t curb any of the anxiety that suffocated him, it sure did help to get his mind off of things and make the present infinitesimally easier to bear.
When the second hand on the hospital’s clock hit the number twelve, Connor stood like a bolt of lightning and was through the doors that the nurses were still in the process of opening.
Gavin was in bed 14—he scanned the surrounding area until he found the metal sign above the bed that denoted where he was and made a beeline towards it. He had to see if Gavin was okay, he just had to.
If Connor had the same general disposition towards swearing like Hank or Gavin, he would have sworn in his description of Gavin. In fact, he was allowed to swear every now and then and the circumstances permitted it.
Because Gavin looked like shit, he really fucking looked like shit.
The amount of wires attached to Gavin must have been uncomfortable and the constant beeping of the ECG annoying. But that wasn’t what really got to Connor.
What got to him was the way that Gavin looked. His normal olive complexion had withered away and left him not dissimilar to a sheet of newspaper. His mouth was slack as he slept and his normally ordered stubble unkempt. Overall, Gavin did not look good and a quick glance at his medical file seconded that. Just glancing at the list of medications running through Gavin’s veins made Connor queasy.
Quietly, he picked up the metal chair that sat crookedly a few steps away from Gavin’s bed and placed it as close as he could to the bed. The chair was uncomfortable—even for Connor—but he paid it no mind. All that was important to him was that he was there, sitting next to Gavin. He was able to clasp the hand without the bulky pulse oximeter in both of his, carefully placing his fingers so as not to disturb the drip that was attached to his wrist.
The mattress felt too thin and uncomfortable against Connor’s forehead and once more he wished that Gavin didn’t have to be in such a situation—one that could have been easily avoided if Connor had been better, faster than he was. If he’d been more focused on what Gavin had been up to instead of what he was doing.
However, it was as if the entire evening had been corrupted and he had trouble discerning what actually went wrong. There were large gaps in his memory, but the moments that he did remember were crystal clear and something that he doubted he would ever forget even if he tried to wipe the memories from his mind.
Such as the moment that Gavin had been shot. As the sound of the gunshots reverberated throughout Connor’s system, Gavin had just… dropped and Connor’s entire world froze. Immediately, he’d rushed to Gavin’s side and called an ambulance. What happened next was forgotten and all he could recall were a scant few moments in the actual ambulance as everything went into overdrive at the thought of losing Gavin.
Despite the fact that Connor had been alive for more than a decade, he had yet to experience something that shook him down to the core, something that made him cry. As he sat there, hunched over the side of the bed, hands gripping Gavin’s, he let the tears fall because there was nothing that he could do.
He had failed his mission—to keep Gavin safe. One of the only self-assigned missions he’d ever given himself, but the most important in his opinion, and he had messed it up.
The minutes ticked past, punctuated by the endless beeping of the machines and the hustle and bustle of the nurses behind him. There was wasn’t anything that he could do to fix things or to help. He was absolutely useless in that moment and the idea felt like a giant weight that all around him, crushing him.
Connor took a deep breath and the air aided his fans in cooling his overheating systems down.
“I’m sorry, Gavin,” he said too quietly for anyone but Gavin, who wasn’t even awake, to hear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
A fresh wave of tears welled up and dripped slowly down his face and onto the floor. His fingers traced patterns on Gavin’s hand. The machine continued. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Lifting up his head, Connor just stared at Gavin’s face and stared as he breathed in and out. There was no way that he would be able to cope with this. Never in his entire life had things gone so wrong. Never.
When visiting hours were over, Connor simply stood and walked out the surgical intensive care unit after a whispered goodbye to Gavin. Though he’d be back once the afternoon visiting hours rolled around.
The next few days passed in much the same way. Returning to work was pure hell but at least it gave him something to do, even though he was distracted and only tasked with menial tasks that kept him at the precinct and off the field. While each evening he’d make his way to the hospital—he had to miss the morning and afternoon visiting hours because of work—and sit next to Gavin’s side, holding his hand, speaking quietly about various topics that interested the man including how each of his five cats were doing.
To be honest, Connor had never really paid attention to tragedy and the holiday season at the same time. While he knew in theory that a special time like Christmas wouldn’t stop people from committing crimes, getting sick or dying, he had never thought that something would happen to him. Especially not when the holiday season equalled good things and happiness to him.
But people didn’t wait and their anniversary came and went like the snowflakes that floated to the ground and melted under the tension of people that just kept on going, doing the same tasks each day, all day, every day. Never stopping, never ceasing. Not one of them pausing to think about the android that sat next to his husband’s side on Christmas day, statuesque, and just looking morosely at the man he loved.
Not working on Christmas day itself didn’t mean much to Connor, but what did matter to him was the fact that he was able to visit Gavin during all three of the available visiting hours. Not long had passed but most of the nurses had begun to recognise him and would often smile sadly as their eyes followed him on his way to bed fourteen, Gavin’s bed. The bed where he lay unmoving, and Connor would have assumed that he was dead if he was unable to feel his pulse or monitor his breathing.
The first time that Gavin’s finger twitch, Connor had chalked it up to himself shifting too much and causing it, but the back of his mind knew better. And when it happened again his thirium pump went into overdrive at the prospect of Gavin waking up.
It didn’t happen immediately though and Connor watched in rapt fascination as Gavin slowly gained consciousness and opened one eye just a crack and made eye contact with Connor. The deep grey reminded Connor of summer thunderstorms that happened on days where the sweltering heat accumulated and grew in intensity until something just snapped and the heavens came pouring down—he could spend hours staring into them and he had forgotten how much he missed seeing them over the past few days.
“Hello, Gavin. Do not put yourself under too much strain—you have been injured and are in the hospital,” Connor said. Gavin’s hand tightened around his and he said something intelligible. Which Connor wasn’t worried about since he was awake now and that meant things were getting better.
A tidal wave of happiness washed over Connor and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling once more—for the first time ever, he cried from happiness. “I love you Gavin. I love you so much and I am so grateful that you are still alive.”
There were still hurdles in the future, but Connor refused to stamp down the hope that swelled in his chest and forced him to smile like a loon, which he seemingly always did around Gavin. Because future struggles did not matter and he could easily overcome any problems that arose with Gavin by his side.
“I missed you,” Connor blurted out.
Christmas had never meant much to Conor and he often did Christmas related activities just for the novelty of them, but it felt as if he’d been given a gift by Gavin waking up and just being alright. Already, Gavin had drifted off back to sleep but that was no issue.
As long as he could weave his fingers with Gavin’s and tell him how endless his love was each day, nothing was.